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some portion of the "Mystery," it certainly "follows hard upon't ;" and it comes recommended to us by purity of sentiment, and by propriety, morality, and sacredness of diction, which that dangerous and faulty production is not such a delineator of character as avowedly discarded. If Mr. Lyndsay Lord Byron, if he is inferior to him in tenderness and heart-reaching description, and if his poetry is generally more unequal in splendour than the author of Childe Harolde's, yet with great and powerful talents he is free from those delinquencies of his rival, which like the rattle-snake, in a bower of bliss, entices to destroy. The dogmas which modern philosophy, or, as Mr. Southey not inaptly terms it, the "Satanic School," have laboured to inculcate, so that we may be rendered restless and discontented with our present hope, and with that faith which the good and the venerable of other days have cemented with their blood in the field and at the stake, have not found a proselyte or a teacher in the author before us; and we therefore on this account, as well as for it's intrinsic and great merits, recommend the series of Dramas Mr. Lyndsay has given us for although his blossoms may be, after all, but the wild and uncultivated shoots of nature, yet beneath them lurks no poison to disinvigorate, and to destroy.

Δ.

A Critical Dissertation on the Nature and Principles of Taste. By M. McDermot. London, 1822.

8vo. pp. 408.

No subject has more perplexed critics and philosophers than that of taste and it's legitimate objects, the sublime and beautiful in nature, and in art; and the difficulty of discovering, what fixed quality, or combination of qualities, constituted beauty; and by what agency the emotion of sublimity was excited in the mind, has not as yet been solved. The latest writer on the subject, Professor Stewart, alluding to those who have already advanced their hypotheses, says, "the success of their speculations has been so inconsiderable, that little can be inferred from them, but the impossibility of the problem to which they have been directed." The subject of taste has equally perplexed critics, for it has been generally considered as an internal sense of beauty, though even the writers who have adopted

this opinion discovered, the moment they advanced a little into the subject, that unaided sense could never arrive at that nice and exquisite perception of beauty which constitutes taste. At the same time, they knew that a knowledge of beauty could not be acquired through the medium of reason, as the beauty of an object cannot be known, unless it be felt. They continued, therefore, to make taste consist in feeling, though they could not tell by what process mere feeling could acquire so critical a dicernment of beauty. This theory also unfortunately stood confuted by the fact, that taste and feeling were not always found to accompany each other; and Montesquieu, having adopted this doctrine of taste, defines it to be

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something which attaches us to certain objects by the power of an inter

nal sense, or feeling." What this something, or internal sense is, he however, does not attempt to explain. Other writers, perceiving that feeling alone could not account for all the laws of taste, maintained it was an acquired principle; but this was merely substituting one word for another, as it is obvious from the views which they have taken of it, that they still considered the "principle" to be some kind of sense that perceives and feels beauty, at the same moment; for Voltaire, Burke, Reid, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Gerard, and Allison, all make taste consist in perceiving and feeling the beauties of nature, without explaining how this perception is acquired; Mr. Stewart, himself, indeed, has evidently treated the subject under the same impression with these writers, and considered taste as a simple, original principle. In explaining the manner in which he has arranged his arguments, he tells us, that he has considered it chiefly as the native growth of the individual mind to which it belongs;" and says, that "in cases where nature has not been so liberal as to render the formation of this power (taste) possible, merely from the minds own internal resources, much may be done by judicious culture, in early life." This is obviously to acknowledge, that taste is a faculty implanted in our nature, which grows up of itself, except in cases where nature has been so partial of her favours, as to refuse the boon.

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Such is the confused and apparently inexplicable subject which Mr. M Dermot has undertaken to develope in the work before us; and we must confess, that when we opened his volume, and looked at it's title, we were tempted immediately to lay it down again, sickened as we were with all that we had previously read upon the subject; and believing as we did, that it contained something in it's own nature that wrested it from the grasp of metaphysical reasoning. Curiosity, how ever, led us to read the first page, and a secret interest which the author has the art of conferring on his subject, carried us entirely through it. We perased it, indeed, with peculiar satisfaction to ourselves, for the author appears, to us, to have removed the vague, conjectural notions which have been heretofore entertained on the subject, and to have substituted some

thing of his own infinitely superior. Mr. M'Dermot endeavours to shew, that taste is as distinct from sensibility and feeling of any kind, as learning is from genius; that the most incorrect taste may be united with the most ardent sensibility, and a very correct taste discovered in men, to whom nature has denied all original delicacy of feeling. He also satisfactorily proves, that taste consists in perceiving, not in feeling, the qualities which constitute beauty, and that it is obtained, not from our feelings, but from the experience which the mind acquires, by continually taking cognizance of the various emotions or modifications of feeling, which are excited by various appearances, in the works of nature and of art. He shews that feeling is the foundation, but not the matter of taste, and that, consequently, feeling may exist without taste, as a foundation may be laid without any superstructure erected upon it. On the contrary, he thinks that the cultivation of taste serves only to repress the original ardour of feeling; and perhaps to dim it's influence.

The first chapter treats of "the nature of taste, and wherein it differs from sensibility;" and the language throughout, possesses those characteristics of ease and elegance, which would too often seem unattainable in metaphysical subjects. Mr. M'Dermot commences his subject as follows:

"Whoever would make himself acquainted with the original archetypes of beauty that exist in nature, or with the imitative beauties of art, whether presented through the medium of language the inspired page of a Homer or a Milton, or of painting, whether they brighten in or fix the attention of the admiring spectator to the glowing canvass of a Raphael, or an Angelo;-whoever would commune with those qualities of mind that irradiate thought, and eurobe sentiment in the light vesture of beauty,-must first make himself acquainted with that association or disposition of qualities in which sensible and intellectual beauty consists. It is this knowledge that constitutes taste; whence it follows, that the extent of our acquaintance with the qualities of beauty always determines the extent of our acA knowledge of the one necessarily imquaintance with the principles of taste. plies a knowledge of the other; and when we say it is difficult to define taste, we only acknowledge that it is difficult to tell

in what beauty corsists. If the qualities of beauty were fixed and invariable, an acquaintance with them would render our ideas of taste as fixed and permanent, nor would it longer be pronounced that volatile and airy faculty which will not endure the chains of a definition, and which stands for a different idea in different minds. Beauty and taste, though they belong to different subjects, cannot be separated: the former belongs to the object perceived; the latter to the percipient. Taste is an acquired power of discriminating those qualities of sensible and intellectual being, which, from the invisible harmony that exists between them and the constitution of our nature, are endowed with the property of exciting in us pleasing and delightful emotions, in degrees proportioned to our natural sensibility, and of distinguishing from them the opposite qualities of ugliness, which excite, in similar degrees, the opposite emotions of aversion and disgust. Beauty, as it is distinguished from taste, of which it is the proper object, may be defined, that association of qualities in sensible and intellectual being which awakens in us the above emotions of pleasure or delight, and in the discrimination of which taste is conversant. In this definition of beauty, I have considered it only in reference to taste, without any regard to the principle by which the qualities of beauty awaken in us their correspondent emotions. This principle has been anxiously sought after by the most eminent philosophers in England, France, and Germany; and, indeed, an enquiry into the origin of the emotions produced by the sublime and beautiful, in nature and in art, has been a favourite topic with many elegant writers, since the time of Longinus. Professor Stewart, however, in his late work on the subject, tells us, that the saccess of their speculations has been so inconsiderable, that little can be inferred from them, but the impossibility of the problem to which they have been directed.' This sweeping clause, coming from so high an authority, must have considerable influence in deterring others, and, it would seem, should have deterred himseif, from attempting the enodation of a problem that admits of no solution. If it be true that no common quality belongs to objects, which entitles them to the name of beautiful, it is idle, in the highest degree, to seek for that which has no existence; but if such a quality be allowed to exist, the fruitless attempts that have been hitherto made to discover it, should not deter the labours of others, nor check that spirit of enquiry which seeks to trace the original form and features through all the varions and diversified aspects in which they present themselves, to our

view. If we are to be deterred by the ill success of others, what becomes of that 'Emulation, whose keen eye

Forward still and forward strains, Nothing ever deeming high

While a higher hope remains?"

A belief that this common quality has a real existence in the nature of things, that it connects all the other qualities of beauty, and that the term beautiful is applied to no object in which it's connecting power does not prevail, has alone induced me to engage in the present enquiry; but, as I confine myself entirely, at present, to the investigation of those mental energies, and mediums of sensible perception, that are necessarily exercised in the cultivation of taste, the subject of beauty will necessarily belong to the second part of this work.

It is of the first importance to set out with a just view of our subject, as a leading error is generally the cause of all our false theories, in morals, in philosophy, and in religion. A leading fundamental error must necessarily affect all the subdivisions of the theory that arise from it, as they must owe their truth or falsehood to the principle from which they arise, and on which they are founded. It will not, therefore, be amiss, that I should first make some observations on the opinion which former writers seemed to have entertained of Taste, as these observations will not only give us a more correct idea of it's nature and office, but they will afford us an opportunity of perceiving the process by which it is cultivated. They will also shew, that the erroneous definitions of taste which have been adopted by former writers, have,`unavoidably, led them into many inconsistencies on the subject.

Dr. Blair, in his Essay on Taste, defines it to be a power of receiving pleasure from the beauties of nature and of art;' a definition which seems to be borrowed from the following passage in Akenside:'What, then, is taste but those internal powers,

Active and strong, and feelingly alive
To each fine impulse ?’

According to this definition, which makes taste consist, not in a knowledge or perception of the qualities of beauty in an object, but in a passive faculty of being pleased at their presence, it is possible to have a perfect knowledge of beauty without any taste; and the best connoisseur can have no pretensions to it, unless he feel a sensible pleasure whenever he perceives the beauties of a picture, a bust, or a statue. But this is not all: a man may have an excellent taste in the morning, and have none at night. We will suppose

that a French connoisseur takes his friend to the Louvre, to shew him all the beauties of art that are there deposited. He dwells with rapture on the comprehensive genius of Da Vinci, the sublime conceptions of Angelo, the refined taste of Raphael, the might and energy of the allegoric Rubens, the art of Corregio, the tenderness and delicacy of Titian, the expression of Dominico, the airs of Guido, and the carnations of Giorgion. In a word, he seems himself to be possessed with the spirit of these mighty masters, and to glow with the bright and inspiring ardour of their creative genius.

ce feu, cette divine flamme, L'esprit de notre esprit, & l'ame de notre ame.'

He returns, at length, with his friend, exhausted with exertion, and surfeited with intellectual delight. On his return home he meets with another friend, who importunes him, thus fatigued, to return with him to the Louvre. They return. He points out to his friend the same beauties which he had already described: he perceives them now as clearly as he did before; but so far from giving him back those transports which he had already felt, so far from enjoying that pleasure in which Dr. Blair makes taste consist, he views them with uneasiness and pain. They are no longer objects of satisfaction to him; and politeness alone induces him to remain with his friend. The latter, on the contrary, though ignorant of the first rudiments of painting, feels the most lively satisfaction at all the beauties and charms that are described to him. To apply this supposed case to Dr. Blair's definition of taste, it is obvious, if it consist in a power of receiving plea sure from the beauties of nature and of art, that the connoisseur was a man of taste when he first visited the Louvre, and a man of no taste when he visited it the second time, though he was as well acquainted with the beauties of these celebrated paintings the second time as the first; and it is equally obvions, that those whom he conducted there, however ignorant we may suppose them to have been, were men of taste, in the most rigid sense of Dr. Blair's definition, if they felt that pleasure in which he makes taste consist. Taste, then, does not necessarily suppose the idea of pleasure, nor even the co-existence of a power of receiving pleasure from the beauties of nature and of art, unless we admit, what cannot be admitted, that a man may be acquainted with the beauties of nature and of art, and yet be destitute of taste, and that a man, ignorant of both, may possess it in the highest degree. It is no argument to say, that the connoisseur would have

felt as much pleasure as either of his friends in contemplating the paintings when he returned to the Louvre, if he had not exhausted himself with too much exertion; for a thousand other circumstances might have prevented him from enjoying the least delight in these paintings; and if these circumstances should continue for life, they would always exercise their influence over him, so that it could never be known that he was a man of taste, because he never evinced that pleasure in which it is made to consist, though his acquaintance with the beauties of art might have been generally known and admired.

"Nothing, indeed, can be more certain, than that men of the most exquisite taste, confining the term, as I have done, to the mere power of discriminating beauty, are not always those who are most strongly affected by it's influence; and I am inclined to think, that very satisfactory reasons may be adduced to shew, that the best judges cannot be the most ardent admirers of beauty. Of all other attainments, taste requires the highest degree of cultivation: sensibility, of all our natural endowments, requires the least. It is so tender a plant, that any attempt to improve, only serves to injure it,-to strip it of that keen and eager susceptibility of delight which it has received from nature. In proportion as we enquire into it's properties, and the causes by which it is apt to be excited, we render it less disposed to yield to them, though we extend our knowledge, and become better acquainted with these exciting causes. As the qualities of beauty are among the causes which affect our natural sensibility, it must therefore follow, that in proportion as we become more and more acquainted with these qualities, and the manner in which they excite their peculiar emotions, in the same proportion do we render this tender faculty less disposed to give way to their influence. When the young warrior first engages in a military life, every wound awakens his compassion; the expiring hero recalls to his mind all the tender recollections that cling to humanity; and his rage yielding to the sweetest of all voices, the voice of a common nature, and softened by feelings which he cannot control, he stoops to offer the last tribute of unavailing kindness to the agonizing brave. How different are the indurated feelings of the old veteran, to whom scenes of havock and destruction have long rendered death familiar in all it's terrific and subduing aspects. Thus it is that the native sensibilities of the heart will neither endure to be frequently exercised, nor too philosophically ex amined..

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"It is certain, however, that whatever portion of sensibility nature has imparted to any man, it may exist during life, unaccompanied by taste, if it's possessor does not give himself the habit of attending to the manner in which he finds himself affected by different models, or forms of beauty, so that taste is not necessarily connected with sensibility in any of it's degrees; and he who gives himself this babit of attention will soon find his natural sensibility, less feelingly alive to each fine impulse,' so that, as I have already observed, by the time his taste is completely formed, that extreme ardour of feeling which he experienced in his more untutored years, is less sensibly felt, or rather it is now ripened into a manly and rational habit of estimating, through the medium of reason and experience, and not through the delusive colouring of a glowing imagination, the just degree of influence which the beauties of nature and of art ought to possess over him. The chaste, manly, and elevated feelings which a man experiences after his taste is formed, compared to those which spread a pleasing and agreeable tumult over his soul, in the undiscriminating season of youth and inexperience, may be aptly compared to the rich and luxuriant productions of Autumn, contrasted with the green and enchanting, but as yet unprized, and unproductive generations of Spring; and as every season has blessings peculiar to itself, so it is not to be doubted, but that the pleasing delusions of youth and inexpe, rience are happily exchanged, in our riper years, for those more correct, more dignified, and more rational feelings which belong to a refined and cultivated taste."

In the second chapter, Mr. M'Dermot confutes the arguments which have been advanced against the existence of beauty, in external objects. Hame contends, that "beauty is no quality in things themselves; but exists merely in the mind, and each mind perceives a different beauty." To this sceptical view of beauty, which explodes all taste in exploding it's object, Mr. M'Dermot thus replies:

"If beauty, according to this theory of Mr. Hume, exist not in things, but in the mind that perceives them, why is the presence of these things necessary before we have any perception of beauty in the

mind? That which exists in the mind,

and only in the mind, can be perceived by the mind; or if it cannot, so far from having any certainty of it's existing there, even the possibility of it's existence would never have occurred to us. All exis

tence, even that of the mind itself, is made known to us by perception; no matter whether this perception be ac quired through consciousness, or the intelligence conveyed through the intervention of the reasoning or sensitive faculties. We cannot, therefore, affirm the existence of any thing, of which we have no perception, of which no sensible or abstract image ever presented itself to our minds; because, if it even did exist, it's existence is concealed from us. It is evident, then, that if we never perceived or felt conscious of the existence of beauty in the mind, we could never think of it's existing there: and so far from maintaining the position, we should never dream of it. Remove, then, the presence of external objects, and all this consciousness or perception of beauty, in or out of the mind, is removed along with it; and so far from defending it's existence any where, the faintest image of beauty would never present itself to us; nor could all the ingenuity of man ever reflect that such a thing as beauty could exist at all."

In the third chapter Mr. M'Dermot treats at considerable length, on the "Standard of Taste ;" but our limits deny us the pleasure of giving any abstract of the diversity of reasoning which he employs on this interesting subject. The chief principles which he wishes to maintain are, that the common feeling of mankind is the true standard of taste, and that whatever is acknowledged as beautiful by the writers of all ages and nations, is to be regarded as the voice of this common feeling. He maintains, how ever, that in determining any point where we have no opportunity of ascertaining the common feeling, every individual, instead of trusting to his own feelings, should be guided by discussion and comparison. This, however, is denied by writers of the greatest authority. D'Alembert maintains, that philosophy only tends to diminish our pleasures, and that whenever it stands opposed to our feelings, in judging of beauty, we should reject it's decision, and trust to them alone. This, we believe, is the popular doctrine, though it appears to us that Mr. M'Dermot has clearly proved it's fallacy.

We regret that we cannot attend the author through the remainder of this interesting chapter, uor take farther notice of the work at present. We, however, most warmly recommend it's perusal to all our readers,

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